


Mutant

by planetundersiege



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Angst, Bleeding, Blood, Body Horror, Brutak culture, Brutal Murder, Brutality, Characher death, Crying, Cutting, Cutting off body parts, Death, Deep Cuts, Emptiness, Extreme, Fear, Feeling like shit, Feeling pathetic, Feels, Gen, Gore, Head smashed open, Hitting, Homestuck - Freeform, Homicidal children, Injury, Killing, Loathing, MAJOR GORE, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, Mutant, NSFW, Not worthy to live, Oneshot, Organ Failure, Pain, Propagande, Public Torture, Public murder, Sadness, Self Harm, Self harm and torture, Slow Death, Stabbing, Strangling, Suicide, Tears, Torture, Troll death, Unable to breathe, Violence, Weapons, Worthless, Wounds, brain washing, explicit - Freeform, graphic gore, he dies, mutantblood, self hate, sin - Freeform, smashing, so much pain, trigger warning, wanting to die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 09:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetundersiege/pseuds/planetundersiege
Summary: He deserved death, because red was the color of sin.





	Mutant

**Author's Note:**

> Hey my dad destroyed Christmas and made me feel like shit so here is a vent fic.

Mutant.

Say it again.

Mutant.

That is exactly what he was, and he knew it. He was wrong, completely fucked up. He shouldn’t exist, he was a disgrace for the troll race with his fucking candy red blood. The blood of shame, it was so fucking red, so ugly. He was lower than the lowest trolls of the damn spectrum, he deserved death. All lowbloods did according to the Empire, but he was even worse than that.

Since the moment he hatched he knew it, that he was different. That he was more than worthless. He knew his head should have been blown to pieces, body crushed by a club or something different. All his blood was good fur was to be some exotic paint color, or some extra flavor for some grubsauce. There was no more use to him. He was a waste of space, just trying to take up the air that wasn’t belonging to him. He was stealing resources he didn’t even have right too.

Those things were for trolls, which he wasn’t.

Mutants weren’t real trolls, they never had been and never would be. Karkat knew that, that he was worth less than air. He was worth less than piss, all he was good for was to ruin it for everyone. Even when he was dead his rotting corpse would just take up more space before a beast came and ate it. He knew he wouldn’t even be good enough as food, so disgusting did he feel. He was so disgusting. Cherry red, FUCKING CHERRY RED!

Dirty, he was so dirty.

Mutant, yes that is what he was, and he could never outrun the painful truth of knowing that all he was good for was to die. He wasn’t a real troll, he never would be, and he would suffer through the rest of his life knowing it.

Why didn’t the brooding cavern workers find him all those sweeps ago? It would have been so much easier, his tiny disgusting grub self wouldn’t have done something, and his fucked red blood splattered to the ceiling would be the best. Stinking guys all over the floor, the other grubs slowly eating his corpse, ripping tiny pieces of his gray flesh from his body, biting the dirty meat between their teeth. And the subjugators then coming, taking the fucked blood to make paint of it, while sacrificing his nubby horns and skeleton to the Mirthful Messiah. Then he would have been good for something at least, unlike he was now.

Yes, red splattered towards all the sides would have been much better, and the painful cries of a grub begging for mercy as he slowly was beginning to die from the hits, clubs already smearing blood everywhere. He would have maybe even being eaten alive by other grubs as they scent the smell of fresh blood, soon freshly killed food for those grubs, grubs that weren’t fucked up. Real trolls with real blood colors, trolls that was worthy of things unlike him.

He was a shame to everything. No wonder it was mandatory law for anyone to kill a mutant on sight. Because letting a mutant live was treason, those trolls to deserving to die. Everyone hated mutants, they should exist.

A troll named Karkat Vantas wasn’t even meant to exists, he should have gotten his guts smashed in as a grub. Yeah, then he would t have to live with knowing about how much of a fucking failure he was.

He was in his bathroom, carefully removed his black sweater from his body, exposing his gray skin and his mutated candy red grubscars. Everything about him just reminded him of how fucked up he was, it was like a disease. A thing like him shouldn’t have been in the gene pool to begin with, he wanted to puke at how disgusting he was. But even then, his half digested food would have a tint of red it in from his stomach. Everywhere he turned, it was just red.

Fucking red.

Mutated red.

Red that was worth killing.

His grubsscars, the tears he cried, his privates. All of it was red. Even when he blushed he was red. He didn’t want to be red, he didn’t want to be a fucked up kid, but he had no choice in the matter. He had just been born in the body of a sinner, one that deserved a slow and humiliating execution because of his blood. He was a freak, but even as a freak, he decided he would go out with a bang. A big fucking bang. Then he would be more than the freak with the troll body, maybe the would even remember his name?

He opened his cabin to find the blade, the blade that he has held more times than he could count. The blade that had opened his delicate gray skin more times than he could count, revealing dirty and sinful read inside of it.

This would be no different, he held the sharp blade between his shaking yellow claws and bit his lips with sharp teeth. It slowly moved closer towards the skin until he placed it on it. He chilled as he let the cold metal sink deeper and deeper into his skin, and he slowly dragged it across, pain and red following.

The pain sang as the red drops slowly began flowing out of his veins and down towards the ground as it slowly dripped. Drop after drop. The pain, you can’t really explain it, but the troll was speechless, yet he got into a trance. His body hurt, begged him to stop this, but his brain had other plans. He deserved to suffer, he deserved all the pain he could get. The pain he currently experienced was no way near enough. He was fucked, he deserved the most painful death in existence.

Mutant, yes he’s a fucking mutant.

His hand was shaking as he took the blade again, and made another cut, and another. The amount of lines quickly grew, and more and more red filled the floor, more pain entered him and his field of rushing became blurry, but he knew he deserved more. He deserved more pain, but even if he got all the pain in the universe, it wouldn’t be enough for such a freak as him.

He hated himself, more than words could explain, and the candy red blood was a grave reminder on why.

He soon ran out of place on his left arm, it was only red, no trace of gray anywhere. But he was not satisfied with one arm that he could barely move. As he hiccuped and shaked, barely able to stay awake to the pain, he moved the rust smelling blade from one hand to another, and he dug the metal into his skin deeper than he had ever done before, literally screaming. He couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t hear. Just pain that ran through his feet up to his ears. He probably got death, and now translucent red tears joined the mess of candy red. Fucking ugly, so fucking ugly. As he slowly removed the blade and threw it across the room, he saw the meat in the wound, and white fat. And, was that bone? He had already lost blood, and now he couldn’t feel anything on it.

He deserved it, he deserved every fucking bit of it. But it wasn’t enough, he didn’t deserve a peaceful death drowning in his own blood in the bathroom. No he didn’t.

The commercials between every movie on troll tv ran through his head, basically whispered to him.

“Do you know a mutant, or suspect someone in a neighborhood is a mutant? Report them to the authorities, or cull them yourself. That way our race will be saved and will stay pure. Mutants that realize this are very brave, paying the ultimate price because they know they destroy the world. So, report your mutant today, for Alternia”.

Yes, he would do Alternia a favor, every single troll knew that, and knew he was the most disgusting thing to ever have touched the world.

He had decided.

As he carefully rose up from the floor the warm tears run, and he bit his black lip so hard from the pain so it too began bleeding, the strong scent of rust filling his mouth.

Mutant. Fucking mutant. Idiot.

With all his powers he walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, tainting the walls with his ugly blood as he walked down. It reeked of him, he hated the smell, but when he was a big pile of smashed guts he wouldn’t be able to smell anything. He couldn’t wait.

Mutant.

He had borrowed six sweeps, six sweeps he shouldn’t have had from the beginning. That was more than enough, he hadn’t even been worthy of a single second of life, so this was exactly what he deserved. To let the real trolls of Alternia beat the shit out of him.

He opened the door, going straight out into the night, sniffing the fresh air for a last time.

Some neighbors were out, and they dropped everything when they saw their bloody, shirtless neighbor.

Now Karkat would utter his very last words, words so straight forwards so you wouldn’t question them. And even if he hadn’t said it, it would have happened.

“Cull me…”.

Yes they would.

Next thing he remembered was his arms being forcefully tied behind his back. An olive but his long claws into his skin and dragged him on the hard ground just like that, leaving a trail of red from his body.

Minutes later he was in the middle of town, and he saw all troll children of his age, all with real castes.

He saw knives, swords, clubs, and the highbloods let out high laughs that made him dizzy.

The first one was an indigo, she leaned in close and took out a knife, carefully playing on his skin, writing in symbols in it and he screamed out in pure agony. The knife felt so cold, it cut into him like he was a piece of grubloaf. It hurt so much, but as said, this is what he deserved. He was so filthy, and this was his punishment.

Mutant.

That was the words written on his stomach, and as the girls stood up, he saw how she held the knives, bright red dripping from it. She opened her mouth and put the metal weapon over it, and he saw how the red slowly dropped down on her gray tongue, as she gave him a teasing look.

“Look at that fucking shit mutant! He’s crying! The little pussy is crying!”.

Laughter erupted through the crowd as a seadweller went forwards with a scissor.

What was he gonna do with the…

He felt the ice cold metal against his feet, moving towards his toes. They got into position, he felt a painful force and…

He heard the snap of bones and his own scream, like a wild animal trying to run away from the hunter. The troll showed him his bloody too, and the bone that had been cut of, and the thing that made it worse, he opened Karkat's mouth and… he couldn’t breathe as the overbearing taste of blood was everything on his mind.

His own bloody toe was about to suffocate him, he felt his bone in the back of the throat.

The crowd was laughing, chanting, singing.

“Mutant! Mutant! Time to cull a mutant!”.

“What are you gonna do with the corpse?”.

“I think about taking home a piece of this shot for dinner?”.

“I’m gonna use it as paint”.

“I’m gonna save it’s head as a trophy, making sure so none of the blood is washed away. I need to showcase this freak of nature and that it got rightfully killed”.

“I’m gonna take a picture with the corpse to show the empire that I’m a good mutant slayer. My dream is to become a tortured who gives mutants their most painful deaths yet. I love it when lowbloods scream for mercy. A thing like that doesn’t deserve mercy. It looks so humiliated. Hell I’m gonna post it on Pringle, imagine all the likes!”.

He felt his head get a bit lighter, the end was close. But before that there was more pain to come.

Another troll went forward with a sword and stuck it right through his stomach. His lungs were on fire, and he felt blood going into the wrong places on his internal organs. Everything slowly became black and the laughing grew. He saw that trolls were filming the scene, making sure they would remember it forever. Oh the joy of an execution, those trolls felt grown up.

The swords was still in his stomach, and he began to feel numb.

Then came the subjugators, with clubs already bloody, in the colors of rust, bronze and mustard. Soon fresh red would be added to the collection.

He saw the white clown pain and how he held the club up high. Soon red would be splattered everywhere and his heart would stop beating.

He closed his eyes and waited for his light to go out and for his body to become limp and cold.

He deserved it.

Mutant.

And so, everything went black while the young trolls danced on the corpse of the red freak.


End file.
